"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

Mullet society? Where?
8:43 p.m. on 2004-02-13

*sings*

Here comes Dick, He's wearing a skirt,
Here comes Jane, you know she's sportin' a chain,
Same hair, a revolution,
Same build, evolution,
Tomorrow who's gonna fuss,
And they love each other so, androgynous

It's a Crash Test Dummies song, by the way. And it's rather appropriate.

I work in a rather large department of the university and there are a number of familliar faces belonging to people I will probably never meet. But top of the list is a person who is, appearance wise, one of the most distinctive people I've ever seen.

This is not, as you might expect, because after 6 weeks of working in the place I still can't tell if this person is a man or a woman. He/She has a feminine face, but broad shoulders - oddly shaped saggy lumps around his/her midriff which could be woman or man-boobs, resting on a beer belly which looks man-shaped but could belong to a woman at a push. He/She chooses to wear baggy shirts tucked into very male jeans, trainers, and a chain looped around several belt hooks.

Strangely, the question of this person's sex isn't what intrigues me so much. Rather, it's their mullet.

Their hair is brown and graying slightly. It is cropped, as all good mullets should be, quite close to the head around the sides and top, with a little more length at the front to allow for a small spiky effect. The back, however, is long enough that it reaches down to their butt.

If there was an award for mullets, this person wouldn't just win, they'd be lord and master over the contest. Mullet King! Or Queen.

I mean, I knew that a few people still chose to wear mullets. Particulary around Stockport, for some reason - perhaps mullets tend to give birth to the number of scally kids that surround the precinct. I don't know.

I'm sure this person is lovely, too. I mean, everyone I've met so far at the university is, so I've no reason to suspect this person isn't either.

It's just.... I've never seen a mullet quite like it. I feel it should be given a name and identity all of its own, a life independent of its wearer.

"I wear the mullet. The mullet does not wear me."

Meanwhile... it was my mother's 50th birthday party last weekend. My stepdad outdid himself (for the first, and possibly only time) creating a surprise party - balloons, music, lights, food, cake, and even an appropriate number of blasts from the past. In fact, my mother was so busy greeting all these people (who claimed to know me, and engaged me in various conversations about university, jobs, and boyfriends, whilst I sat there and desperately tried to work out who they were) that she avoided most of the alcohol and it was actually my friends and stepsister who came off worst.

Perhaps I should have drank, though. I'm not sure I will ever be able to forget the sight of my mother and her equally aged best friend shaking their hips frantically and head banging to some 70s track whose name I forget...

Listening to: Gary Jules - Jeremiah

Quote: "It's like a great big tide of jam. But jam made out of old women."

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